Better Than Fine
by Lady in the Willows
Summary: Post Journey's End. The Doctor has been left alone. Again. And, frankly, the TARDIS was sick to the teeth of it.


Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

**Better Than Fine**

The Doctor had been left alone. Again. And, frankly, the TARDIS was sick to the teeth of it.

She didn't feel in the least guilty when she'd taken matters into her own hands, figuratively speaking. She had no hands to actually take matters into but one didn't always have to speak literally. The TARDIS usually got into these theoretical arguments with herself since she very often had extremely little to do except sit around while the Doctor had adventures. She was… _transportation_. Back in the days of the Time Lords when she hadn't been the last TARDIS in existence this occupation would not have bothered her. But times had changed. With the Doctor – _her _Doctor – the rules of the universe were rewritten. He could open her doors with a snap of his fingers. They were intimately connected to each other, survivors of a tragic war.

Being so connected, the TARDIS decided it was about time the Doctor had more than just her to live for. There were no more Time Lords, although she wouldn't be surprised if the Master somehow managed to resurrect himself. The nasty bugger was good at that. Anyway, there were no more females of his own kind for the Doctor. A human female would have to do. This time the TARDIS intended to do the choosing. The Doctor's luck had not been terribly good so far.

Perhaps the reason the TARDIS was feeling particularly forceful was that she'd nearly been destroyed recently. And the Doctor had saved her. Whatever the circumstances and complications, the Doctor always managed to find her and save her. It was time she did more than transport him from one danger to another. So after having taken matters into her metaphorical hands, she waited for results.

And boy, did she get them.

* * *

He'd just taken off his wet jacket, barely feeling the cold sting of rain in his hair and against his skin. The practical steps of drying off and changing clothes hadn't even sunk in yet. He was frozen for a moment in that all too familiar pain of loneliness. In another minute he would begin to run again, just as Davros had said. He needed only a few minutes before he started off.

The TARDIS lurched and threw the Doctor off his feet. He let out a startled '_oomph_' as the engines roared to life. By the time he finally reached the controls the clever time machine had already locked on a coordinate.

"What?" He stared at the screen, clinging hard to the console while the TARDIS bucked and spun. "What?" _Bam!_ The Doctor fell backwards, wincing as he hit the floor. His mind was already running to find the solution to his current situation. The last time the TARDIS had taken off on its own he'd lost a daughter. However, from the readings he'd seen, the Doctor didn't think he was in the same type of situation. In fact, he was in Los Angeles. He wasn't sure if he'd even traveled in time more than a few hours. There was really only one way of figuring out what was going on. He scooped up his damp jacket and pulled it on as he stepped out of the TARDIS to investigate.

* * *

Fay Martin was not having the best of days. Of course she was happy that the earth had returned to its proper place and they weren't being invaded by Daleks. At the same time, she resented the rest of the world for celebrating. It was irrational. Fay was reasonable enough to understand that she was not the only person to have lost a loved one. Too bad her emotions weren't listening to calm, clear logic. Due to her wildly careening emotions, she'd been crying since the earth had been returned.

While the planet celebrated, Fay was one of the first ones to go about the business of taking care of her loved one's remains. Her loved one. Her mother. Anna Martin had wanted to be cremated and the process didn't take long. Fay was numb, barely feeling the slide of tears down her face. Now she was very much alone with the polished brass urn that held her mother's ashes. She didn't have a lot of optimism for this saved world. After all, the Daleks had slaughtered anyone who resisted. The people who had resisted the most were authority figures like the police and military. It would take a long time before order was restored. That ruled out walking around at night.

But then, why should she care about being mugged or assaulted? It was better than letting her roommate go out and get 'supplies' for her big survival bash. Fay didn't really understand Kat's theory about how a party with lots of people and alcohol would somehow make her mother's death less of an unbearable tragedy. Drinking herself into a coma would only work temporarily.

Fay tightened the belt on her long gray coat, eyeing the rainy streets with a little trepidation. It was seriously pouring out which was pretty weird for Los Angeles at this time of year. Well, maybe the atmosphere had gotten screwed up after the earth's trip through the universe. She was a struggling author, not a scientist. How would she know? Fay prepared herself for the shock of cold and headed out into the storm. The still functioning part of her brain couldn't believe she was getting drinks for her loony roommate's party when it was incredibly dangerous to be out on the street when there was no more established order. The grief-stricken, looking-for-meaning part saw it as something better to do than clinging to a cold urn and crying.

She started to hear an alarm screaming when she got closer to the liquor store. There were a few shouts and then the screaming abruptly stopped. Fay pressed herself against the nearest wall, squinting a little to make out what was happening a few yards in front of her. A robbery was in progress. Well, it'd be more accurate to say a robbery had just occurred and was quickly being wrapped up. Two men were running down the street and… and someone was on the ground.

Fay ran forward then quickly dropped to her knees beside him and searched for a pulse. It was hard to see in the dark and the rain wasn't helping but she thought she could see his chest rising and falling. She could feel a steady thrumming beneath the fingers she'd pressed against his neck. That meant he'd probably gotten a sharp bump on the head and wasn't actually dead at her feet. Fay ran her fingers through his hair, searching for a bump or, even worse, for blood. His dark, shaggy hair was soaked from the rain. So was the rest of him, for that matter. He had a smooth, clean face except for the sideburns. Honestly, who had sideburns anymore? Fay sat back on her heels and stared down at him for a moment. She hadn't been able to find where he'd been hit. No blood had to be a good thing, though.

The real question now was: What happens next? Fay wasn't about to leave him in the street. Then again, she couldn't get him to the hospital, either. They were filled to the brim with people who were either truly injured or merely suffering from paranoia. Plus, she had no car. What she did have was an apartment a reasonable distance away and a steady back. But could she really drag a complete stranger into her home? Fay struggled with that as she looked at him. Even if he was lying down she could tell he was taller than her by a good five inches. He was skinny, however, and she was much more solidly built. If he tried anything she didn't doubt she could knock him into next week.

No matter how ridiculous it was, Fay had trouble believing someone that pretty could be dangerous. She pulled him up into a sitting position as best she could then tugged him over her shoulder. Oh, _crap_, he was heavier than he looked. Fay staggered a little then continued on, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath. She really hoped they still had some of those icy hot patches in the bathroom or her back was going to give her hell tonight.

The Doctor came back to consciousness slowly. The first thing he was painfully aware of was the throbbing in his head. The second thing he noticed was that someone had stripped him down to his briefs, which he acknowledged made sense because if an average human stayed in wet clothes they could very easily come down with pneumonia. He hadn't opened his eyes yet since he was uncertain how light would affect his headache so he relied on his other senses to tell him what he needed to know. Someone had put him in a bed and made sure he was wrapped up pretty tight in warm blankets. He could hear the dull pounding of rap music from another room and the quiet bickering of two women in the room with him.

"You've found me out, Kat. I deliberately arranged for this guy to get attacked on the street so I could skip picking you up a few extra bottles of vodka and bring him home instead. As an added bonus I get to nurse him back to health, thus getting me out of your party. This has all been an elaborate plot."

"You're doing that sarcasm thing again, Fay. It's starting to really piss me off."

"Oh, I'm shaking in my fuzzy socks," the first voice, Fay, muttered. "Look, Kat, I can't leave him alone. I would panic if I woke up in a strange place and since he's already suffered a head injury I don't want to pile more stress on top of it. I'll just have to get drunk with you some other time."

"Fine," Kat finally surrendered. "But I'm going to hold you to that." There was another pause and then, in a far softer voice than she'd used before, she said, "Put a damp washcloth on your eyes. They're looking a little swollen."

"Thanks," Fay replied softly. A few moments later there was the sound of a door opening and closing. He heard Fay sigh then felt the bed sink as she sat on the edge.

Fay felt more than tired. She felt a kind of bone-deep exhaustion that made her want to collapse on her bed and never get up again. Too bad her bed was occupied. Instead she distracted herself by fiddling with the things she'd found in her mystery guest's jacket. There was a blank piece of paper set in leather, a pair of square, dark-rimmed glasses and something she couldn't identify. It was long, thin and made out of some type of silver metal. There was a blue bulb of some sort on the top and various settings. God only knew what that was. She set it back down on the side table then glanced at the unconscious man in her bed.

And immediately lost herself in endless brown eyes.

"Hello." The Doctor wasn't sure what else to say. The light hadn't stung as much as he'd expected when he'd finally opened his eyes. Instead the woman sitting on the edge of the bed surprised him. Her eyes were a light shade of brown, flecked with gold. Her skin was fair and mostly free of sun damage.

"Hi," she finally managed to say. Had she thought he was pretty? Devastating was more like it. He could break hearts with those eyes, not to mention that delicious British accent. She pushed her still damp tangle of wavy brown hair over her shoulder. It fell past her shoulder blades and was too long for her to wear loose without it tying itself in knots. It was only loose now because she was waiting for it to dry. "I'm Fay. I found you on the street. I think you took a pretty hard knock on the head."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Fay glanced away and tried not to blush as the image of his chest was permanently etched into her brain. It hadn't been this awkward when she'd undressed him. Then again, she hadn't really been attracted to him when she'd undressed him. She'd been thinking about his condition, brain damage, pneumonia and other possible disasters. "How did you get me here?"

"I carried you," she replied, thankful for the distraction. "It wasn't all that far from my apartment." She noticed the way he was staring at her now and could practically read his mind. "I'm 5'9" but I'm still in my mid-twenties so my bones could take the weight. What's your name, by the way?"

"I'm the Doctor," he told her, pressing a hand to his head and searching for the spot where he'd been hit. He could vaguely recall walking into a robbery but it went blurry after that. He pressed too hard on the tender part of his head and winced.

"Oh, shoot, I forgot to ask where you were hit. I'll get some ice for your head. It ought to help keep the swelling down," Fay said as she got up and hurried out the door. Then she winced at the mess that her living room was already in after a few hours of partying. The futon was littered with crushed chips, a few couples were grinding to the music and her flighty roommate was trading spit with a man who closely resembled Clay Aiken. It wasn't pleasant to see her usually clean room trashed. Well, she'd dwell on that later. Fay maneuvered her way past plastic cups littering the ground and slid into the kitchen that still needed a lot of work before it became useful. A working stove would help. She dumped ice into a plastic bag then wrapped a dishtowel around it, keeping the whole 'ice should never be applied directly to the skin' rule in mind.

"Fay, catch!" Fay turned at the sound of Kat's voice then grunted when she had to catch a heavy bottle of tequila before it shattered on the floor. She glared at her roommate before retreating back into the relative peace of her bedroom. First she realized her bed had been evacuated. Then she saw the Doctor buttoning up his shirt, which he must have found hanging on her bathroom door.

"This is warm," he noted, looking at her only briefly as he concentrated on the buttons. Fay set the bottle of tequila down on her side table.

"Your clothes came out of the dryer a little while ago. I put the stuff you had in your pockets next to the bed." She ignored the little voice in her head that wanted to admire the long, lanky man standing in her bedroom wearing only a light blue shirt and underwear. Fay handed him her makeshift icepack and focused on his eyes. "I'm not sure what else to do for a head injury."

"No memory loss or dizziness so I probably don't have a concussion," he explained. The Doctor applied the ice to his head and winced. He tried not to look too closely at Fay. He knew himself well enough to recognize that tug of interest. This body seemed much more aware of women than his others and that generally led to snogging for one reason or another. It also led to heartache and the inarguable fact that he would never have someone who was just his to go to at the end of the day.

Fay was dangerously interesting. The Doctor had only been conscious around her for a few minutes but he knew humans well enough to know when one was interesting. In her dark green lounge pants and large gray sweatshirt, she was the perfect image of a normal human in her normal, comfortable room that wasn't bigger on the inside. The loneliness he knew was waiting for him in the TARDIS made him want to collapse in the beanbag chair she had in the corner of her room beside an old dresser and talk. Not even talk about anything specific, just talk. The fuzzy blue carpet beneath his feet was even tempting him to stay. But he shouldn't. He should get out of here. Whatever the TARDIS had reacted to might be roaming the streets causing havoc. "Listen, thanks for dragging me off the street but I should really be off."

"I wouldn't go back out there. Most of L.A. is getting drunk and dangerous. I think you should at least wait until morning before venturing outside," Fay suggested. The Doctor already had his pants off the hanger, though. All signs indicated that he wasn't going to take good advice.

"You don't have to worry about me," he assured her. Fay snorted. It wasn't the most feminine habit but it was what she did when she heard something ridiculous.

"Right. Why would I worry about a man who claims to have a propensity for head injuries?" Maybe it was the heavy sarcasm in her tone where there had only been politeness before that made him look up. Or, as Fay would later think of it, maybe it was simply the universe guiding the Doctor where he needed to be that night. Whatever the reason, he did look up and he did lose his balance because his foot got caught in his pant leg. This made him fall over and hit Fay's bookshelf hard enough to make a deck of tarot cards set on one of the top shelves slip off and scatter across the floor.

Only one card fell face up and skidded to Fay's feet. She leaned down, staring intently at the portrait of a man hanging upside down from a tree. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't break anything, did I?" Fay looked up at the Doctor who had finally managed to get his pants on.

"No, nothing's broken. Nothing of mine, anyway." She held up the card so he could see. "You drew the Hanged Man. And since we weren't even trying to see what was in your future I'd say the universe has taken a keen interest in your fate."

"Oh, tarot cards," the Doctor said, crouching down to take a closer look at them all. "Been ages since I've seen a good deck. The Hanged Man is part of the Major Arcana, right?" Fay resisted the urge to stare at him. How many people had she met that actually knew anything about tarot cards besides the obvious occult reputation? Practically none. Somehow she found this too improbable. Fay had learned too much from her mother to believe in mere coincidence. Some things had to be taken on faith. Maybe… maybe there was more to tonight than she'd thought.

"Doctor," she began, pausing for a moment when she realized she hadn't even blinked at the strangeness of his name before continuing, "I don't know anything about you but I know a lot about tarot cards. It's a hobby. The Hanged Man is the paradox card. Whatever you feel you should do, the opposite of that is probably the right thing." There was more. A lot more. But she barely knew this man and to explain the more would probably be delving into personal territory.

"Paradox. Why doesn't that surprise me?" the Doctor murmured. He continued to stare at the card as his mind buzzed with thought. The TARDIS had reacted strongly and without any discernible reason. A few minutes in the destination the ship had chosen had gotten him knocked over the head and left in the street. But that had gotten him here with a woman whose tarot cards had made him realize there wasn't some kind of threat that had drawn the TARDIS here. The Hanged Man was indicative of the need for a change of perspective.

Fay. Derived from Middle English _faie_ meaning "fairy". And, in some cases, Fay was the shortened form of Faith. The Doctor looked up at her, into those golden brown eyes, and wondered if faith was what he needed. It was a good question and he had the time to find out. What else was there for him to do? It wasn't as if anyone was waiting for him.

"You're welcome to stay," she told him as she sensed his resolve wavering. "I'd actually prefer it if you did. I don't want to have to wonder if you ended up in a ditch somewhere."

"I wouldn't want to interfere with your roommate's party," the Doctor said, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets. Fay smirked.

"So you were conscious during that little exchange, were you?" The Doctor just smiled and Fay couldn't help smiling back. "Well, you don't have to worry about disrupting my plans. I was just going to drink myself into a coma, anyway."

"I've heard that people shouldn't drink alone," he said, deciding not to think too hard about what he was doing. His head was too full of thoughts and they only got louder when he was alone in the TARDIS. Fay stared up at him with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I wouldn't mind the company."

After that, there was nothing left but to get some glasses.

* * *

"I mostly took up my tarot card hobby to freak people out in the beginning. Middle school is a tough time and it's worse for kids who are different from the rest. I would have been a target for a whole world of negative attention that I didn't want. So I did the only thing a lonely girl with very few friends can do in a situation such as that. I frightened them." The Doctor and Fay were leaning back against her bed, taking turns pouring tequila into the shot glasses Fay had managed to find in the mess that was her apartment and answering questions.

"You frightened them? But you were what? Eleven?" he asked before taking another shot of tequila. He didn't usually drink as a rule. Drunken Time Lords tended to babble and do ridiculous things involving extinct animals and aliens with more than one head. Or invent the banana daiquiri a couple centuries early. The Doctor blinked, then focused on what Fay was saying instead of stumbling down memory lane.

"People spook easily, especially if presented with something they can't properly label and categorize." Well, he couldn't argue with that. After his experience on the planet Midnight… The Doctor pinched his arm. He was heading down memory lane again. "Once they picked up on the fact that I was potentially dangerous they left me alone. Anyway, I started viewing tarot cards as more than a tool to scare people and developed an appreciation for the art." Fay shrugged. "I've always been a little odd."

"I can honestly say that you are not the oddest person I have ever met," the Doctor assured her. "In fact, I don't find you odd at all. Just more interesting than your average human."

"Mum used to say that being average was for the uncreative," Fay murmured then quickly downed another shot. "But that's another story and it's your turn to share." One story immediately came to the Doctor's mind. His most recent adventure.

"I need more to drink first."

* * *

"Let me see if I can summarize all that," Fay said after a rather long, somewhat awkward silence that had followed the Doctor's mind-boggling story of time travel, parallel dimensions and severed hands. "You're a Time Lord from Gallifrey who lost his home world during a huge Time War with the Daleks. Then the guy who created the Daleks in the first place survived, and also had the gall to accuse you of destroying worlds, made more Daleks and stole planets so he could create a machine to destroy reality. And then you and people you've traveled with through time and space saved the world. Wait, correction. You didn't save the world. You saved reality in general." At his nod, she let out a low whistle. "Nicely done, cowboy." The Doctor smirked.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," Fay told him. Still, he could see the skepticism in her eyes. The Doctor reached for her hand.

"I can prove it." He pressed her hand to the center of his chest where he knew she could feel the beating of more than one heart. Fay's eyes widened.

"Holy crap! Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to shout," she apologized quickly. "Alcohol impairs the filter between my brain and my mouth. I'm liable to say anything." She moved the tequila bottle away and brought her other hand to his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his hearts beneath her skin. "That's fascinating. You're alien. But… you look really human." The Doctor cleared his throat. He felt overheated suddenly. It probably had something to do with the tequila. The other possible but extremely unlikely option was that his body was a little too aware of the female human leaning over him with her surprisingly delicate hands on his chest. That couldn't be it, though. He wasn't the kind of man to fancy someone before he really knew them.

Except that wasn't true. He'd fancied Reinette. In fact, he'd more than fancied Reinette.

"I look human on the outside but the inside is all Time Lord," he assured her, although he was assuring himself as well.

"Right. Human you is in a parallel world with Rose. Not your brightest idea," Fay said before she sat back down and stopped invading his personal bubble. The Doctor frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you could have taken Rose and your clone around on your travels through time and space. Even if he were angry and bitter, there would have been two of you to look after him. Although you've probably lost so many people that you've started building emotional walls to protect yourself and you couldn't stand the idea of losing Rose again so you left her instead. That way you didn't really lose her so much as gave her a chance for a fulfilling life with your human self. And I'd bet part of you didn't want to share her with the human Doctor." Fay paused then sighed and reached for the tequila. "Sorry. I babble."

"No, don't apologize," the Doctor murmured. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Do you always analyze people?"

"Usually I keep it in my head," Fay admitted, taking a swig of tequila to help make the embarrassment go away. She shouldn't have delved into his personal life like that. It wasn't her place to judge. Time for a subject change. "Anyway, I suppose it's my turn again."

"Suppose so." He continued to study her face although it felt as though he was seeing something beyond her skin. Fay cleared her throat and began.

* * *

The Doctor and Fay had spent several hours drinking and talking. Really, it had been a miracle she'd lasted this long without bursting into tears. Fay hated crying in front of people she knew, much less a perfect stranger, but once she'd gone over the story of how she'd lost her mother… She was a goner. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this." _Wheeze, wheeze_. "It's just been a really bad day." _Hiccup, wheeze. _"Sorry." Unfortunately, the more she wanted to stop crying the worse it got. Pictures of her mother, memories, would pop up in her head and the tears kept coming. Everything hurt. Her heart hurt, her eyes hurt, even her toes hurt.

The first thing she felt through the tears and pain was a big, long-fingered hand enveloping her own. Fay looked up and, like she had the first time she'd seen his eyes, she lost herself in brown. His other arm came around her waist, pulling her to him. The Doctor held her against his warm body without saying a word. And it was perfect. Perfect because she'd lost that instinctive connection, that knowing, when her mother had pushed her out of the way of a Dalek beam. Fay had lost the one woman who'd meant the world to her and the one person who had understood her. So what the Doctor had done, holding her without question, was perfect. It made her feel that there might possibly be another person out there in the universe who might want to make an effort at getting to know her, even if it was just for a night. He gave her hope. "You're not the destroyer of worlds," she decided suddenly.

"What?" He pulled away from her with curiosity in his eyes.

"Davros was wrong," Fay told him, the tears finally beginning to ease up. "You don't destroy worlds. You save them."

"I wiped out the Dalek race. I committed genocide." His voice was cold and flat. Fay shook her head.

"Actually, human you did that and if he hadn't then many other worlds and people would be dead but that isn't my point. I read something a long time ago that helped me understand that life is never destroyed. It merely becomes something else." The Doctor took the opportunity for a change of subject eagerly.

"So then the same applies to your mother?"

"Of course it does, Mr. Avoidance," Fay said with a surprisingly light tone. "My logical half knows that. It's my selfish human emotions that make me bitter and unreasonable. And those same emotions have wrecked your shirt." She frowned at the wet spot just below the Doctor's collar. "Damn, I just dried that."

"It's really not a problem," the Doctor reassured her.

"Still, I'm going to make an effort not to burst into tears anymore tonight," she said as she stood up to get the tissue box and take care of her stuffy nose. "I'll be right back." His eyes followed after her.

"Steady," he murmured to himself, further loosening his tie as the heat he'd noticed before crept up on him. Fay was bright, insightful and attractive. He was a sucker for all three qualities. Rose and Martha were prime examples of that. What was it about Fay that made him more aware of her on that basic level, then? The same thing that Reinette had. Elegance. A smooth, understated elegance that he could see when she moved or spoke. Fay didn't have Reinette's breeding but she had picked up that classic elegance. It was subtle and partially hidden under sarcasm. But still there.

He was in some serious trouble now.

* * *

"You're kidding!" The Doctor turned red at Fay's disbelieving stare. Gripping the bottle, he took several long gulps of tequila. They'd abandoned the glasses two thirds of the way into the bottle. He needed to stop drinking. He could tell by the speed of his thoughts that'd he'd overindulged. Not to mention he'd wondered three times what Fay's legs looked like without her lounge pants. He excused his refusal to listen to sense by using the tarot card. He was supposed to do the opposite of what he thought he should do, after all. Therefore dismissing wise counsel would be good.

"You humans are obsessed with this sort of thing," he muttered, finally keying back into the conversation.

"Come on, Doctor, be serious," Fay said, ignoring the jab he'd made at her species. "Rose was in love with you and you obviously had some very intense feelings for her. Why didn't you sleep with her?"

"I don't sleep with the people who travel with me." Well, not recently, anyway. "It makes things too complicated."

"Didn't you want to?" The Doctor reddened again, which Fay took for a yes. "And did she want to?"

"It would be safe to assume," he mumbled. He looked embarrassed but she could tell by his posture that he was just a touch smug about that. Fay smirked. Who knew smugness could be cute?

"Well, I don't buy that nonsense about not having sex with people who travel with you. If you're hundreds of years old then it had to have happened at some point. So there's got to be another reason you haven't had sex with any of the attractive women you've been zooming about the universe with recently."

"Time Lords aren't as sex-oriented as humans," he pointed out, wishing he could steer this conversation away from sex. It wasn't a subject he was comfortable talking about while he was under the influence of alcohol and sitting next to a pretty woman.

"I think it has more to do with your unwillingness to be vulnerable. I shall take this opportunity to point out that losing Rose hurt you and whether or not you'd done the horizontal mambo really wouldn't have changed that."

"What about you?" he asked. Fay decided she needed to lie down for this one and rested her head on the floor.

"Once in college but not since then." She let out a long sigh, knowing that the Doctor was going to want more details. Fay decided to give them willingly before he had to ask. "He was six months younger than me. Sweet, sensitive, majoring in philosophy and art. Sort of skinny with broody dark eyes. I'm a sucker for the tall, lanky ones." The Doctor tried not to let that comment sink in but it was much too late. One of his many trains of thought was already shouting triumphantly about being her type. "Anyway, the sex was nice but after a while we figured out that we weren't sparking the way we should. I mean we seriously never fought once. Even our breakup was friendly. There wasn't any passion in our relationship and we both wanted that more than we wanted comfort. We split and that was the end of that."

"But no one since then?" He wasn't sure why he cared. It wasn't as if he'd questioned Rose about who she'd been with before Mickey or asked Martha what her sexual history was like. And if he'd asked Donna she would have slapped him.

"No. I'm on the pill but it's mostly to regulate my hormones." She stared at him for a minute and he could feel the mood gradually change from comfortable to… sparky. He tensed.

"Er, right. So what did you study in college?"

"English." Fay sat up and moved closer to him on her hands and knees. He felt suddenly like the friendly cat he'd been spending time with had transformed into a sleek leopard. "Doctor?"

"Mm?" Her mouth was hovering over his and he could smell her breath, a bizarrely alluring mix of tequila and tears.

"What's your policy on sleeping with people who don't travel with you?"

"I… I d-don't…" The Doctor was finding it difficult to form any kind of protest. One of her hands was slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt while her lips glided across his cheek before settling contentedly at his earlobe, nipping gently. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. When she drew back he had to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering.

"I should probably do the responsible thing and make sure you're still sober enough to consent."

"I am." Unfortunately now that he was thinking clearly he knew he couldn't do this. "But I can't." She lifted a brow and glanced down at his lap.

"I think you probably can." He sputtered a little, face reddening at the implications. Fay couldn't help but smile. He looked so cute when he was embarrassed. "Doctor, we're both adults who haven't had sex for a while and are very clearly attracted to each other. Unless you have some sort of intergalactic STD, I don't see the problem."

"I don't do this sort of thing," he tried to explain. Images of Reinette kept running through his head. He remembered how very happy he'd been and how much it had hurt when it all ended. The women he became close to romantically died too often for him to chance a one-night stand with someone new. "Besides, you're grieving. Grief makes people act irrationally." Fay shook her head, impatience flashing through her eyes. It was time to get serious.

"I know I'm grieving. I am very aware of the pain I'm feeling right now. I know I'm not okay. But I also know I want this. I want to feel something tonight besides grief. And I also know that you're not okay, either."

"I'm fine," he protested.

"I bet you're always fine," she retorted sarcastically before getting a rein on her temper. Fay breathed slowly, forcing herself to relax. When she reached for his face her touch was light and gentle against his skin. "I hate that word. It's so bland and detached. Everyone uses it and no one can ever be sure if it's true. Doctor… Don't you ever want to be better than fine?"

_Yes_. The lonely, aching center of him whispered the answer. The man without a name, without a home, who couldn't ever stop running if he wanted to escape the past, wanted more than anything to feel more than just fine. His fingers reached out, gently touching her hair. He could smell the fading scent of lavender on each soft strand.

"Help me." The Doctor was briefly startled by the pleading voice that seemed to escape his mouth without his permission. Fay touched her lips to his mouth and he decided not to wonder why anymore.

Fay couldn't help but marvel at how soft he was. His lips, his hair, his skin. She parted her lips, drawing him deeper into the kiss and finally knowing what he tasted like. Warmth tickled the caverns of her chest and slowly spread. She threaded her fingers through his hair, her thumb tracing his forehead and feeling the worry lines that were so unnoticeable from a distance.

The Doctor rested his hands on her hips, giving himself time to know the feel of her mouth before he went anywhere else. Beneath the tears and alcohol he could taste sweetness, rich and thick, like honey. He continued to explore her mouth with his slow, thorough tongue.

When Fay pulled back for air her mouth was swollen and a slow-burning fire was sizzling in her veins. The Doctor looked dazed and a little desperate. "Fay," he whispered hoarsely.

"We could do this on the floor," she said, clearly her throat so she'd sound a little less needy. "Or we could move to the bed that's right behind you." The Doctor blinked. He had to make a decision right now? Oh, he had to get his brain working again.

"The bed." She smiled in that mysterious way human women did, standing up and offering him a hand. He couldn't help staring up at her and wondering what he thought he was trying to do here. This wouldn't fix anything. The Doctor took her hand anyway and pulled himself up, impulsively deciding that for once he didn't have to do any fixing.

And when he did so, this event became a fixed point in time. Permanent and unchanging. Fated. He stumbled and Fay steadied him, concern dampening the hunger in her eyes. "I'm fine." She quirked an eyebrow at his choice of words.

"We'll have to work on that."

* * *

"Nine hundred years of experience. I really shouldn't be surprised," Fay mumbled, staring a little numbly at the ceiling. She didn't have any room in her for grief at that moment, which was a relief. She was trying to get an exact count of how many times she'd… well… been _really _happy tonight. She could distinctly remember three but then it got blurry.

The Doctor ran his fingers down the body he'd thoroughly memorized during the last few hours. Fay was safely embedded in his mind and always would be. Now he was debating whether he wanted to leave with only that or if he wanted a more physical reminder. Like Fay. On the TARDIS. With him. Could he do that?

She shifted in his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest and letting out a quiet sigh. "Thank you for doing this. And for, well, being you." Fay realized that he was exactly what she'd needed. Losing her mother would always be hard and she would always carry it but she felt a little more optimistic about doing that now. Perhaps a part of it was the endorphins and the general happy feeling sex created. Still, Fay honestly believed the Doctor had helped her with more than the need to get laid.

"My pleasure," he joked softly. This felt good. This holding someone close and not being afraid. "I was just thinking… Don't humans usually sleep at night?"

"We try," she replied dryly.

"Then should I shut up and let you rest?" he asked. She chuckled.

"Believe me when I say that if I need to sleep, I will sleep. No jabbering from you would keep me from my rest. I once slept through a massive earthquake, you know." He smiled and, without meaning to, made his decision.

"Would you like to travel with me?"

"No."

"Oh." Well, that hadn't been expected. Fay propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at his face. Her eyes were soft and kind.

"It's not that I don't want to, Doctor. I would like to but I know that it won't work. I'd just become part of the cycle of your life and if you haven't learned that you need to break that cycle then you're not as brilliant as you think you are." He looked shell shocked for a brief moment before his face went perfectly blank.

"I should probably go…"

"Hold on," Fay said, pressing him back against the mattress. "Let me get this out. I'm not saying you should stop traveling. That's a part of who you are. Still, you need roots. Someone to come back to when you feel empty and alone."

"Oh." The Doctor didn't know how else to respond. She had a very good point. He needed to do something different to avoid walking into the TARDIS feeling like he was the last person in the universe again. "Roots aren't that easy to put down." Hard to create but easy to sever. He had far too much experience with loss to feel optimistic.

"Then take the first steps," Fay told him. "Come visit me between adventures. It doesn't have to be often. Whenever you start to feel isolated and alone, pop back down to earth and see me."

"You want to be my roots?" the Doctor asked. This was definitely not how he thought he'd spend his night. He hadn't seen himself drinking and swapping stories with a stranger, being seduced by said stranger and then offered the thing all his companions had. Someone waiting for him. Someone to count the days until he came back.

"I think that's what I have to be," she confessed, reaching out and touching his face with the tips of her fingers. "You're amazing, Doctor. You truly are. But if I went with you, then I could never go back to my life. Nothing would ever be as amazing as my time with you. It would be like living on tofu after enjoying a lifetime of gourmet cooking."

"You wouldn't have to go back," he murmured. The words tasted false. They both knew that his companions always left him in one way or another. She kissed him, sweeping the lies out of his mouth with her warm, steady presence.

"You'll come back to me and I'll be waiting," she promised. "That will be enough."

* * *

The morning was gray and foggy. Rain no longer pounded against the streets. It had lessened, transformed into a soft mist. Fay hadn't seen the point of an umbrella so when she turned to the Doctor outside in the early morning light her hair sparkled with rain. "So this is it?" she asked. The Doctor nodded, taking a key out of his pocket. The two of them were standing in front of the TARDIS. Fay studied the blue police box, attempting to visualize it spinning through time and space. "It looks friendly." The Doctor considered that for a moment.

"Yes. Yes, it does." There was another long, awkward pause before Fay spoke again.

"Where are you headed?" He shrugged.

"I thought I might check on the other stolen planets and see how they're getting along," he told her, only coming up with the idea in that moment. He could sense she wanted some idea of where he was going to be. He could also feel that she was going to worry about him. The Doctor couldn't help it. He had to smile.

"Look after yourself, all right?" Fay was surprised by how hard this was. She didn't want to let go of this man, this Time Lord. She wanted to take him back up to her apartment and fall asleep in his arms. "Oh, my last name's Martin, by the way. You might need to know that if you ever have trouble finding me."

"Fay Martin," the Doctor said. The words left a full, rich flavor in his mouth. He stared down at the woman who'd saved him, bundled up in a denim coat and beige slacks. She smiled before gripping his collar and pulling him down so she could kiss him. They lost track of time as they both memorized the feel of the other's lips and the taste of their mouth.

The Doctor took a step back. He had a hunch that if he stayed kissing her any longer, he might not want to go. "I'll come back."

"I'll be waiting," she replied, squeezing his hand once before letting him go. He unlocked the TARDIS door and glanced back one last time. The Doctor took in the image of Fay's swollen mouth and her soft eyes. She lifted a hand, bending her fingers in a small wave. He closed the door and she let out a deep sigh. Fay missed him already.

Once he'd gotten the TARDIS off the planet and set the coordinates for the Lost Moon of Poosh, the Doctor leaned back against the console and sighed. He sunk his hands deep into his pockets and… Wait a minute. Something thin and flat brushed against his fingertips. The Doctor gripped the edge, pulling the foreign object out. Then he smiled. A tarot card rested in his hand, the hanged man staring back at him and looking far less distressed than any hanged man had a right to look. He tucked the card back in his pocket, smiling as he thought of Fay.

He would go back one day and she would be waiting for him. His smile widened.

Oh, yes. He would definitely be back one day. _Soon_.


End file.
